


Prisoner of Rome

by orphan_account



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: AU-Ancient Rome, Alexander Helios, Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Beggars, Cleopatra Selene, Dead Parents, Death, Established Relationship, Eventual fluff and smut, F/F, F/M, First Time, Gaul - Freeform, Homosexuality, Jean loves horses, Lesbian Relationships, M/M, Mentioned suicide, Minor Character Death, Parades, Post Antony's civil war, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex, Sibling Love, Sibling seperation, Slavery, Violence, Ymir and Marco are siblings, illegitamate child, protective Ymir
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-03-31 23:37:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3997486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco Bott is barely fifteen years old when he and his sister, Ymir, are taken from their tribe in Gaul and forced into slavery. There, Marco meets Jean and is pulled into the allure and dangers of living in the court of Gaius Cesar Octavius Augustus and the events that occur during his reign. That, and his growing feelings for Jean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sold into slavery

**Author's Note:**

> I know I just started a Shingeki no Kyojin story a few days ago, but I found a good idea for this one. I was inspired by another writer to do a Period fic. So I chose Ancient Rome during the reign of the first Emepor, Octavius. I won't really focus too much on the real people that I use in the story, but more so on the characters in the fandom. I'll leave more notes at the bottom for you to read.

Marco had never imagined he'd end up in a position like this. In hindsight, he should have seen it coming. Their clan had been small compared to others; their Vergobret had been taken down almost immediately by the invading Roman legion. The attack had come out of nowhere and no one was prepared for the advancing Roman legionaries. Most had fled; his mother and younger brother being in that group. He didn't know what had happened to his father. He could only hold onto the small hope that he'd survived and was with the rest of the family. He was too old now to fight, but he would always insist that he was still as young as he used to be.

The only one in his family that was with him now, was his older sister, Ymir. Only eight seasons older than him, she stared passively out the bars of their steel prison, the landscape moving around them in a rather grim manner. He sighed, drawing his knees up to his chest. All around him, he could hear the misery of the others. The sniffling and sobs of children younger than him, the weary sighs and moans from adults and elders. Teenagers his age sat quietly nearby, almost as if they knew what their fate would be. Some had already committed suicide; refusing to be part of what Rome stood for.

“I wish they would stop,” Ymir spoke up dryly. “Crying isn’t going to do them any good.”

“They’re children,” he reminded her gently, only to have her roll her eyes. “They don’t know how else to handle the situation.”

She pulled the collar of her tunic closer to her chin, closing her hard golden eyes. Marco didn’t attempt to talk to her then. When Ymir was done talking, she was done talking. He returned back to his own thoughts, heart aching at the thought of their home. Their tent was small, but still roomy enough for five people. Their little brother had been born last spring, making their home seem even smaller, but it was for a happier reason. The more he thought about it now, the harder his heart began to ache. A single tear slipped down his face, but he quickly wiped away. Ymir still had her eyes closed, but he didn’t want her berating him for being weak. She was exploitative; not afraid to berate others. It was no surprise that she wasn’t married yet, but he didn’t dare say that it front of her.

“What,” he began, licking his dry lips. “What do you think Mother and Father are doing?”

She frowned, opening her eyes, looking rather irritated. “I don’t know,” she grumbled. “Does it look like I’m with them? Why ask such a stupid question?”

“Sorry,” he murmured, scooting a bit farther from her. “I just really miss them.”

She sighed, noticing the tears that were now dripping freely down his face. She scooted closer to him, wrapping an arm around him in an unusual display of affection. “Don’t cry,” she said in the softest way she could and he could tell this was difficult for her. “You still have me, right? Or am I such a terrible person to be around?”

Her attempt at humoring the situation made him smile a bit. “No, you’re not a terrible person,” he didn’t mind her arm being around him; it made him feel a bit more safe. “I just want to go home.”

“Well, little brother, that may not happen for a bit. We’re almost to Rome, or so our captor’s say,” she glanced towards the soldiers, who were now leering at her. His grip on her hand tightened, fear for her now rising. She continued on, though he could tell she was worried. “I would love to say take the first chance of escape that we have, but we’re in unfamiliar territory. They have the advantage. They would catch us and make life more miserable. That is, if they didn’t kill us first.”

He swallowed hard, trying to imagine not being stabbed, or worst, crucified. “So, what should we do?”

“Wait it out. Just do what they say, for now. If I think the moment is right, then we run. But don’t do anything until I say so.”

She didn’t remove her arm from around him and he relaxed into her shoulder, trying to fall into a light sleep. He didn’t have much success, for the afternoon sun beat down on them harshly, making the already bad conditions even worse. Even the soldiers, who were full energy that morning, were now riding on their horses or walking with their heads tilted downwards.

About two hours before the sun could sink lower into the sky, the city of Rome appeared before them. The soldiers now cheered, speaking in rapid Latin that Marco could only catch a few words. His mother, a very smart woman for her age, had lived with a Roman family when she was younger before escaping from them. She knew Latin and the minute he and Ymir were old enough, she began to teach them. He had never understood why until this day, now very thankful for her teachings.

The large wall that surrounded the city was huge, larger than he could have ever imagined. A huge aqueduct carrying water from the river nearby could be seen connecting to the wall of the city before disappearing. From the farm houses, he could see people stepping forward, looking at the procession of returning soldiers in curiosity and awe. He could see a child’s face, the boy smiling from ear to ear as he pulled his mother’s hand. Marco wanted to be sick.

“Ignore them,” Ymir muttered. “What would they understand?” She had a point. As cynical as Ymir could be, there was no denying the truth when it was said. He turned his face away from the boy, staring down into his lap. Ymir just stared coldly at the soldier that was looking at her body; nudging his friend.

Marco gulped. “I don’t like the way they’re looking at you,” he whispered. “It’s wrong.”

“Hm,” was what came out of her mouth. “I guess they are. It’s a shame they’re too ugly.”

“Ymir!”

She continued to stare at them until they turned away, the two soldiers now a bit unnerved by her penetrating gaze. Now that he thought about it, she always did this. Whenever boys in the village tried to compliment her, or try to court her, she would just stare at them coldly or give one syllable responses to their questions. She did this all the time, no matter who the person was.

Eventually, the cart stopped. One of the soldiers threw the caged door open, yelling at them to get out. They filed out single file, a few of the soldiers pushing around the people they found to be too slow. Chains were slapped onto their wrists as they marched down the large roadway. Marco’s eyes widened at the things he saw. The area they were in seemed to be where slaves were traded in and out. Germanic women, with their wrists chained to each other, stood naked on the street while different men examined them. Children, even younger than himself, were huddled together while people looked onto them. A group of young boys, and from what he could tell, looked recently castrated and stood under the perverted eyes of older men. Deals were being made, or being argued against, and slaves were then carried off towards their fate. A group of men, dark skinned and strong looking, were led away by a greasy looking man.

Ymir nodded towards them. “They’ll be Gladiators,” she whispered to him. “And will probably die on their first day in the arena.” He could only pray that that wouldn’t be his fate. He was fit, but he certainly didn’t want to die a “glorifying,” death in the arena. They then stopped, the man yelling at them again and the chains now broken. Chaos immediately broke out. Children tried to run, only to be caught by soldiers nearby and one of them laughed as he carried back a screaming woman. Marco wanted to cover his ears, but Ymir’s hand on his prevented him from doing so. Instead, she just stared on coolly. “Don’t,” she murmured quietly. “Draw attention to yourself and you’ll be sold quicker.”

He left his hands at his side, closing his eyes to not witness anymore brutality. A whip could be heard lashing down on someone, a child most likely. Their screams could be heard louder than anyone else’s. He opened his eyes when he was grabbed roughly, being forced to stand with the other men. “Ymir!” he called out as she was pulled away as well. “Ymir!” She didn’t look back as she was forced to stand with the women in their group. The men around him were silent, a few of them spitting harsh words about their captors. Two small boys huddled near them and he knelt down, trying to comfort them the best he could.

“Mommy!” one of the boys murmured, looking towards one of the women, who were looking at him. “I want Mommy.” He held onto the boy, trying to find his own sister. It wasn’t hard to find her; she was tall for a girl and her eyes met his, assuring she was alright. The man who had gathered them in separate groups had a slab in front of him, taking count of how many people. “Twenty men, including boys and thirty women including girls,” he said towards another man, one that obviously sold slaves.

“Fifty all together.”

“Good,” the man grinned. “Too bad there aren’t more. Did the others get away.”

“Unfortunately yes, but there will be other times to get them. Do what you want with them.” The General left, a couple of the soldiers standing behind to leer at Marco’s now captured clan. They were clustered together again, the sun now almost completely set. Ymir appeared at his side immediately, sitting close to him. Tiny food rations were given to them, a couple of the soldiers muttering about how they hoped that they wouldn’t die of illness overnight. Marco chewed his small thing of bread slowly, watching sadly as some children devoured theirs in one bite, then trying to grab food from the other children.

“Disgusting,” Ymir grumbled, looking at the children scornfully. “Funny how these kids were friends a few days ago and then the next, turning on each other for food. How ironic.” Her dark humor disturbed him, but he didn’t say anything. He just shivered at the cold wind that blew; wishing he had warmer clothes on or if the slave traders would give them blankets, but they were now slaves, why would they do that. Ymir pulled him closer towards him, resting her chin on his head. Her warmth didn’t do much to help, but it was better than nothing as he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

He only woke up when one of the guards threw ice cold water on them to wake them up. Ymir grumbled something about guards being cocksuckers, but other than that, she woke up without much protest. It wasn’t yet noon, though it was close to it when he looked up towards the sun. He was separated from Ymir again, panic rising in him as she was led off with the other women her age and older. He could only watch in horror as they were stripped of their clothes, forced to stand together as two men looked at them with critical, yet lustful eyes. One of them stopped at her, noting her tall features and breasts. She only stared past them, her eyes narrowing when they commented about her. The other women looked scared, shivering as they stood, but Ymir only looked defiant. Marco let out a gasp as one man had the nerve to grab at her most private part. She lashed out then, sending a fist towards his stomach. He wasn’t expecting it and neither was the overseer. Immediately she was struck in the face, falling to the ground and then hauled away towards the rest of the group. Her clothes were thrown at her and she took them immediately, dressing quickly.

Marco hurried over to her to assess the damage. Her left eye was swelling, the lid beginning to turn a dark purple. “Ymir,” he hugged her, something he didn’t usually do. “He shouldn’t have touched you! He was wrong!”

“Well that’s a no brainer,” she scoffed. “He was talking about taking me away from here and I wasn’t going to have that. If they’re going to take me, they have to take you too. And vice versa.” He felt comforted by her words and stayed closer to her for the rest of the time the men were here. In the end, five women were selected and paid for. One of the women cried out, reaching for her child that was calling for her, but the buyers were having none of that. She was silenced by a harsh slap to the face that left her numb; quiet with shock.

More buyers came through that day, some buying more of their tribe and others not. Three children were sold that day; all three of them boys. Marco didn’t even want to think about what would happen to them. His face turned pale at the thought of it. Several of the men, thankfully not including himself, were taken away by the greasy Gladiator trader from yesterday. He prayed to Morrigan to give them a painless death. When night came again, things were quieter. Only a few children remained and by this point, they were numb with shock. Marco could only chew his bread mournfully, and he was still hungry when it was gone. If Ymir was suffering, she didn’t say so. She just ate quietly and wrapped an arm around him as a silent way of telling him to go to sleep.

The cycle was repeated the next day. However, a new pair of men came, wanting the rest of the men and boys to be observed. Marco had never felt more exposed in his life. His face was red as the men looked at his uncovered lower body and he had an intense urge to cover himself. Ymir looked beyond angry and she only stopped looking angry when Marco was sent back into the group. Only two slaves were taken by the men; never to be seen again.

“We won’t be separated,” Ymir growled. “I will fight them if I have to. He wanted to believe her, he did, but something in his gut was nagging at him. A bad feeling, or so to say. A man came, obviously richer and cleaner looking than the other men that had come.

The overseer smiled widely, pulling the man in for a firm hug. “Nile Dok,” he pulled back, showing off the holes in his smile. “I haven’t seen you here in a while. Come to buy?”

A man of average height with short cut black hair nodded, not very emotional. “I need the women,” he said briskly, without sounding hesitant. “You do have some, don’t you?”

“Of course we do! I’ll gather them up!” Marco could only watch with helpless dismay as Ymir was taken again, standing with the remaining women. The man, Nile, walked passed them, though he could tell this man was different from the others. He studied each woman carefully for a few minutes before shaking his head. Each time he did, the woman was sent back. By the time half an hour had passed, only Ymir and an elderly looking woman were left. Marco chewed his lip, watching nervously as his sister stood defiantly towards the man. The elderly woman looked as if she were going to collapse from the strain of having to stand for so long that he couldn’t help the urge to want to go help her. What on earth did this man want from them.

“I’ll take the freckled girl,” Nile said finally, the elderly woman sighing in relief. Ymir’s eyes widened in unusual shock, her eyes darting between Nile and Marco.

“Her? She’s a trouble maker. I had to hit her yesterday because she wasn’t cooperating.” “Well if she causes me trouble, I’ll be sure to handle it.” The man gave the overseer a large stack of coins before the shackles on Ymir’s hands were released.

He grabbed her wrist, ignoring her hiss, and started dragging her behind him. She found the strength to pull free, running towards Marco and holding him protectively towards her. “I won’t leave my brother!” she cried. “You can’t take me!”

“Told you she causes trouble.”

“I see,” Nile just yanked her back, ignoring her howl of rage. He handcuffed her again, pulling her after him as she struggled. “I’ll probably see you again in a month. My personal servant is starting to become too slow.”

“LET ME GO! I WON’T LEAVE MY BROTHER!” Ymir’s cries of despair were becoming more distant. The elderly woman had attached herself to Marco, trying to soothe his hysterical sobs. He didn’t fight against her; but he did let out sobs. Ymir was his only source of comfort and familiarity. What was that man going to do with her? Was he to turn her into a prostitute? Or worse!

“Ymir,” he sobbed. “He can’t take her! Bring her back!”

“Shh child; there’s nothing you can do. She’s not coming back.”

“Ymir!” She continued to hold him, smoothing his hair and humming a lullaby his mother used to sing to him and Ymir when they were smaller. It did little to calm him down and he kept crying for two more hours until his eyes turned red and puffy. At this time, a tall built man with astonishingly bright blue eyes and bushy blonde eyebrows appeared, looking at the cluster of prisoners in sympathy.

The overseer greeted him with his usual friendliness. “Erwin Smith, what a pleasure. Care to buy yourself a salve?”

The man, Erwin, only smiled politely. “Not for me, for my nephew. His became free this morning and will be requiring a new one.”

“Man or woman?”

“Man, preferably a teenager.”

“Well, we have a few left. Come take a look.” Marco stood with the remaining teenage boys, staring blankly ahead of him. The man didn’t seem cruel, but who knew what was going on in that head of his.

Erwin stopped at him, staring for a few minutes before nodding his head. “This one will do; he looks like he has a good head on his shoulder.”

“That will be fifteen sestertius.” Erwin handed him the money and the overseer quickly slapped a pair of cuffs on Marco’s wrists.

The blonde man narrowed his eyes. “Remove those; I won’t be needing them.”

“But sir!”

“To earn loyalty, you have to earn their trust,” Erwin stated patiently. “What’s your name, child?” He was surprised by this man’s words and unusual kindness so far.

“Marco,” he affirmed calmly. “Marco Bott.”

The older man smiled. “Come with me, Marco,” he motioned his head forward. “You must be hungry and tired. Follow me.” He followed him, glancing back towards his people. The children watched him go with blank eyes and the elderly woman just smiled at him softly, as if she were silently telling him that there were worse owners out there. Shame burned hot within his body at the reminder. He was no longer human now; he was a slave.


	2. Jean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments and kudos! I'm so excited to be introducing Jean in this chapter! And a few other characters that work here. More notes will be at the end of the chapter.

At first, Marco had no idea what to think of the villa of Erwin Smith.

On the outside, it seemed so ordinary and plain. Only the symbol of the family name stood out on the metal doors; an eagle from the looks of it. Marco only gazed in curiosity as two slaves at the entrance of the home pushed back the doors, revealing the interior of the home. Marco’s eyes widened, surprised to see such a grand interior. Lush greens surrounded the inside square of the home, the sun reflecting down on the pool inside. Servants around the olive trees in the garden paused from their work, the weeds in their hands now limp on the ground. Marco only felt their stares fuel his shyness.

“Look how long his hair is,” one woman commented. “See those bracelets?”

“He’s from Gaul,” the other said. “We haven’t had a slave from Gaul in awhile.”

The two women then shrugged and picked up their baskets, returning to tugging and picking up the unwanted plants. Marco followed Erwin into the interior, where the older man smiled at him kindly. “My nephew is not home at this moment; he’s still at his tutor’s villa across the city. He should be back later today if he doesn’t detour.”

Marco didn’t say anything; he just stared blankly at the wall in front of him. Erwin sighed, stepping forward to place his hands on his shoulders. He flinched, obviously nervous at the contact. Erwin just gazed at him calmly. “I’m not going to hurt you, Marco,” he assured and for some strange reason, Marco believed him. “I have never hit my servants unless the situation called for it. I don’t know how you came to be a slave, but I assure you that nothing bad will happen to you if you don’t cause trouble for yourself.”

“Yes sir,” he responded quietly, though not unpolitely. “Thank you, sir.”

Erwin removed his hands, looking towards the household servants that were now gathering to come take a look at him. “Reiner!” he called out into the throng of servants. “Reiner, could you come here?”

Marco was expecting some elderly man, but the man hat stepped forward surprised him. He was a couple inches taller than him, with short cut blonde hair and a square face. His shoulders were broad and he was obviously very muscular, but his golden eyes were gentle looking. He smiled towards Marco before addressing Erwin. “Yes sir?” he asked. “What can I do for you?”

“Please show Marco around. He will be Jean’s new personal slave.”

Murmurs started around the group of people, some giving him looks of sympathy while others only looked indifferent. Reiner just nodded, smiling pleasantly. “Will do, sir,” he took Marco by the arm gently. “Come with me, Marco.”

The other servants dispersed, going back to work or to do whatever they did. Reiner eventually let go of his arm. “So your name is Marco, right?” the man asked as he led him down an open hallway. “My name is Reiner Braun. What clan was yours?”

“Insubres,” he replied, pride surging through him. The intricate bracelets his mother had woven for him proved how much he loved his home. Then the shock hit him. “Do….you have a clan?”

The man smiled, lifting up the short sleeve of his tunic to reveal a dark blue bracelet that symbolized his clan. “Vindelici,” he said, puffing out his chest in pride. “But it’s been ten years since I’ve seen anyone from my clan.”

“I don’t think that clan is from Gaul,” he frowned, trying to think. “I don’t think my father ever mentioned your clan.”

“That’s because I’m not from Gaul,” Reiner smiled in amusement. “My people live in Germania. I did meet several tribes from Gaul though when I was younger.”

“How old are you now?

“Oh, I just turned twenty in August. Not too long ago, now that I think about it. ”

Marco followed him inside the kitchen, where a girl with brown hair and brown eyes wearing simple clothing awaited them. She grinned, rushing forward to meet him. “Hello, I’m Sasha!” she hugged him tightly, and Marco felt very uncomfortable by the close proximity. Reiner snickered a little, but didn’t say anything about the girl’s enthusiastic attitude. She grabbed a spoon, dipping in the cauldron hanging above the fire and shoved it in his mouth. He winced at first, the contents burning his tongue a little before his eyes lit up. Her smile grew larger. “You like?” she asked. “Tell me if it’s good. Is it good? Be honest, do you hate it?”

“It’s really good,” he responded, laughing a little. It had been such a long while since he’d laughed. Was it appropriate to do now? “What is it?”

“Soup with sheep lungs,” she responded. “Yes, you ate lungs. Were they tender enough?”

His stomach growled, obviously wanting more. She laughed, scooping some more out in a small wooden bowl, putting two small rolls of bread on a plate to the side. “Eat up; you must be hungry. Clementia knows slave traders don’t feed their slaves well enough.”

His stomach churned at the thought of the rest of his people. The women who had been sold off to be prostitutes, the children who were probably being molested by now, the men dying in the arena. The very thought of his sister alone brought tears to his eyes and they fell into his food with a plink as he ate. The girl, Sasha, then looked guilty. “I’m sorry; I shouldn't have said that,” she went back to her cooking, still looking displeased with herself. “I can get a little ahead of myself sometimes.”

“It’s alright,” he said softly, eating his soup. It really was good, despite her fretting about it. “You’re a really good cook.”

She beamed. “Thank you,” her mood lightened and she looked a lot more energetic. “I like your freckles by the way. They look cute on you. I don’t see too many people around with freckles.”

He blushed. “Thank you; I didn’t choose to be born with freckles though.”

Reiner stepped forward, a knife held in his hands. “I hate to have to do this to you,” he looked rather sullen at the thought. “But it is pretty uncommon to have long hair here. I’m going to have to cut your hair.”

His hand immediately fell towards the unruly braid in his hair. “But my people don’t cut their hair,” he protested. “I don’t want to cut it.”

“Trust me; I don’t want to either, but Erwin will insist. It will draw unwanted attention to you and give clear identification on where you come from. There are people here who will beat you up if they know where you are from, so it’s for the best,” Reiner picked up the braid, untying the thread. “Besides, hair is hair. It doesn’t define who you are. I had to cut mine and I still have the pride of my clan with me.”

What he said made sense, but Marco was still against it. Reiner’s hands were strong against his scalp while he observed over where the best places to cut were. With a slashing sound, his head felt instantly lighter. The dirty locks of black hair fell to the ground in an ungraceful pile. His hand immediately went to the back of his hair, where the ends now fell at the nape of his neck. Reiner knelt down, grabbing the hair before throwing it out the window of the kitchen. “After you’re done eating, I’ll show you around the place and then let you clean up. No offense, but you kind of smell.”

“Well, I haven’t been able to clean myself for days,” he admitted. “I’ve been stuck in a cage for several weeks.”

“At least you’re out of it now,” the blonde said, arms now crossed and looking serious. “And as far as Erwin goes, he’s a pretty good man. I’ve never seen him hit any of his slaves and things around here are pretty peaceful. I say we’re all pretty lucky to have him as a master and not someone like Atia of the Julii.”

He cocked his head. “Who’s that?”

“The mother of the Emperor,” Reiner replied. “And she’s done some pretty...unspeakable things to her slaves. I won’t say because technically it’s none of my business and shouldn't have gone outside the walls of her home, but word does travel.”

“The Emperor did return today,” Sasha spoke up. “He’s finally back from Egypt from his war with Antony. Both he and that Queen, Cleopatra, committed suicide.”

Marco’s jaw dropped. “Why would they do that?” he asked, the thought of killing oneself very off putting. “What would drive them to do that?”

“Better to have your pride than be paraded around in a cage for all of Rome to see,” Reiner said bitterly. “That’s what would have happened to her if she hadn’t. And from what I’ve been told, Antony thought  she had already surrendered and died, so he took his own life. He died in her arms.”

“I feel bad for his wife, Octavia,” Sasha was now back at the cauldron, stirring. “To be stuck in a loveless marriage like that, and then to have your husband run off to Egypt and have three children with another woman and call her wife instead. How awful it must be for her.”

“Yeah,” Reiner nodded. “But I guess it doesn’t matter now. I hear Octavia has to look after her husband and the Queen’s two surviving children. Alexander Helios and Cleopatra Selene. Twins.”

“Poor things are going to be paraded around tomorrow in the triumphant return,” Sasha shook her head. “They’re only ten years old. Just children.”

The two of them continued chatting as Marco ate in silence. He couldn’t help but feel sympathetic to the  twins; who both had just lost their parents and their kingdom. To be a slave now was shameful enough, but the more he thought about, to be paraded around the city in chains was even more mortifying. Compared to them, he was lucky. He finished his food, mood now a bit sour after hearing the information just given to him. He didn’t know a lot about Egypt, but he knew that slaves in Egypt were treated better than the slaves here.

“It looks like you’re done,” Reiner stood up, motioning for him to follow. “I’ll see you later, Sasha!”

“Good bye!” she then grabbed Marco’s wrist, giving him a quick hug. “I’ll see you later, alright? If you need a shoulder to cry on, or even just a hug; I’m here.”

He nodded, liking this girl a lot more. He caught up to Reiner; the blonde walking a lot faster than he could. The man whistled while he walked, not at all bothered by the fact that some slaves cast him annoyed looks. “Alright, so this area is where we live,” he indicated towards the barracks where some people were heading in and out of. “Slaves eat in the kitchen and sleep in the barracks. We don’t go in the main living area unless we are needed. The main living area is for the family of the master of the house. If you don’t work in that area, don’t go in it. Since you will be Jean’s personal slave, you will be attending him unless he dismisses you. Other than that, you remain in this area.”

“Okay,” he replied, looking around the area. “Where do we clean ourselves?”

“There is a communal not too far from the barracks. We clean when we wake up before breakfast. The household slaves that get up in the morning typically clean before they go to bed because they have to be up early. Jean wakes up around eight, so you should probably be up around seven.”

He made a note of this, continuing to walk around. He recognized the barn where several cows, pigs and horses were kept in their pens. They looked incredibly well fed and clean; something he was grateful of. Chickens ran about, pecking the ground for food while slaves worked around them or chatted amongst each other. Reiner waved towards a few of them, but other than that, he was silent.

The main living area was quiet. Marco had never seen more luxurious furniture in his life. Back with his clan, they lived on the floor in tents. With mats serving as their beds and flooring. The flooring of the main home felt different under his feet. The dark brown floor held mosaic carvings, that held not dent in them. Different types of decoration aligned the walls and furniture that looked invitingly comfortable. One look at a dark red couch, and he felt the urge to lay down and sleep. Reiner smiled, shaking his head. “Sleep there, and with you being dirty, Erwin will probably hit you.”

The thought of being hit made his stomach hurt. Ymir had been hit and she was barely able to open her eye in the morning. Ymir. What was she doing right now? Was she safe? Was her master as kind and generous as Erwin was showing himself to be? What if he was beating her? Or worse, what if she was being raped right now?

“Hey, are you alright? You look like you’re going to faint,” Reiner led him out of the main house and outside, sitting him down on one of the benches. “Are you feeling sick? Do you want me to get a healer?”

He shook his head. “No,” he held his head in his hands. “I was just thinking of my sister.”

“Your sister?”

He nodded. “We were captured together and she’s been protecting me ever since,” he bit his lip mournfully. “She was bought two hours before I was. I don’t even know where she is or how she’s doing.”

Reiner placed a hand on his back. “I’m not going to lie to you; I don’t sugarcoat things. Female slaves aren’t always treated the same way as male slaves. Typically, their only bought for three things: Being a Wet nurse or nanny, a domestic slave, or a pleasure slave. How old is she?”

“Seventeen.”

“I can’t say she’s not being treated well; do you know who bought her?”

He shook his head slowly. “He said his name was...Nile Dok?”

“Never heard of him. Maybe Erwin knows. I’m his personal attendant, so I’ll ask him sometime. If he knows and if I can find out where he lives, I will tell you.”

Marco lifted his head hopefully. “You would do that?”

“I’m a nice guy,” Reiner grinned, shiny white teeth glimmering in the sun. “And I like you, so I want to help you.”

“Thank you; thank you so much!”

“Well hey now, I’m not making any promises. There is always a chance Erwin might not know.”

His heart sank at that, knowing that that might be the case. Reiner then stood up. “Come on, I’ll show you to the Bath house. It’s right this way.”

Stepping inside, Marco realized the bath house was empty. He shed his clothes; Reiner taking them and disappearing down the courtyard. He had no idea where the man was going, but let the warm water cascade down his body. He scrubbed the dirt off his body, digging behind his ears and under his fingernails. He removed his bracelets slowly, setting them down on the bench next to him. Soap, something that he knew only the wealthy could afford, was something Reiner had handed to him earlier. He scrubbed his hair twice, watching in disgust as dirt fell to the ground at his feet.

When he was clean, he stood in the middle of the room completely nude. It was cold now without the water and he wrapped his arms around himself. Thankfully, Reiner came back immediately with some clothes and shoes. It was a simple white tunic that reached just above his knees. A simple brown cord was wrapped just over his belly button. He took the shoes Reiner had brought him and slipped them on with ease.

Reiner handed him his bracelets. “Erwin doesn’t care if you wear them,” he smiled softly at that. “He thinks we shouldn’t be ashamed of who we are. It’s not like we chose this lifestyle after all.”

Reiner then stepped back, taking the dirty clothes into his arms. Marco stepped forward, stopping him. “Thank you,” he said softly. “For everything so far.”

“It’s no problem at all. I’ve been in the same position you are in, so I know what it’s like. Jean is back now, so we should probably go greet him.”

The walk was long, even though it only took a few moments to get there. Erwin was in the entryway, talking to a boy around Marco’s age. Marco studied the boy carefully; a little surprised that he would be attending someone his own age. The boy was about three inches shorter than him. His hair, an ash brown that was cut short with his sides and back trimmed, held a darker hue. He didn’t know why that was, but maybe it was because the hairs were so short. The boy’s eyes were small shaped and held an intense shade of light brown; tawny almost. He was handsome; undeniably handsome, but something about him bothered him a little. His face had a long shape to it. Not in an unattractive way, but it somewhat reminded him of...a horse.

He wore a plain white tunic, though it was clearly made from lighter materials to combat the slightly warm October air. Erwin was now in a tunic, and from what Marco knew from his mother’s teachings, men wore togas for certain social events or for when they were heading out to meet friends in public or to even go to senate. He wasn’t sure which one Erwin was doing, but knew it was none of his business.

Looking at the two men, they looked nothing alike. That didn’t mean they weren’t; Marco and Ymir didn’t look really similar besides the freckles and occasionally the eye color and tanned skin. Still, as he knew before, it wasn’t any of his business.

Erwin put a hand on his nephew’s narrow shoulder. “Jean, this is Marco. He is your new servant. I bought him today from that raid they did on the clan a month back.”

“Huh,” was all Jean had to say on the matter. “I’d almost forgotten. Eren wouldn’t shut up about it. Idiot wants to go into the military.”

Marco wasn’t sure if Erwin cared or not, but the man just nodded. “I will be receiving friends soon. I expect you to be there to greet them with me. Marco will help you put on your toga for the occasion and get you cleaned up. I expect to have you ready in an hour.”

Jean merely nodded, motioning for Marco to follow him. Another servant had a clean white toga laid on the young man’s bed. The boy didn’t put it on at first, he just nodded for him to bring it as they went to the bath house for the main family. Much grander than the one near the barracks, this one was a medium sized pool. Though he had never done it before, he removed Jean’s clothing and turned away with a hot face as the young man entered the bath. He continued to stare forward, cheeks now pink as the young man cleaned himself. They didn’t say anything; something Marco was a bit relieved about. He assumed slaves did not talk to their masters unless addressed directly. He didn’t know much about Jean, but there was a possibility that he was very different from his uncle.

“Are you just going to stand there all day or dry me off?”

“Oh! Sorry!”

He quickly wrapped a robe around the young man, cheeks still bright pink. The linen robe he placed around Jean felt soft in his hands, and he missed feeling the material as Jean walked proudly towards his room. The toga was soft in his hands and he was a little confused as to why Jean didn’t want to be dressed at the pool area. It made more sense to do that there than back in his room where he had dripped water down the hall.

“What are you doing?” Jean asked, the water now dripping onto his shoulders. “Put the toga down?”

Before he could even say something respectfully, he blurted out. “Why?”

Jean just rolled his eyes, pulling his arm and sending the toga down to the floor. Marco yelped as he was forcefully pushed onto the bed, Jean walking over to move on top of him, sliding his knee in between his thighs. His face was now flaming red and he pushed towards the man. “Wh...what are you doing?”

“Uh, you’re my slave. My personal slave.”

“Get off of me!”

Jean looked confused, yet his hand still traveled slowly up his tunic. Marco flinched, feeling his warm hand grab around his thighs. “Get off of me,” he protested, bringing his hands up to push Jean away. “Get off of me!”

“You have no right to talk to me that way! Quit fighting!”

“No!”

He didn’t know how he found the strength; everything was kind of a blur at that point. He knew he had done something bad when he found Jean on the floor glaring up at him with heated eyes. “You physically pushed me!” he growled. “You had the nerve to push me? Your master!”

He gulped, but stood his ground. “I said no,” he protested, even though he had a feeling this would cause trouble for him later, but didn’t care. He wasn’t some prostitute that this young man could use whenever he felt like. “I don’t care who you are, I am not some lupa!”

Jean just stared at him, removing his robe from his body. Marco turned away, expecting the young man to come and harass him further, but all he saw Jean do was put his tunic back on. “Help me with my toga, slave,” he sneered. “And you’ll pay for this later on.”

**He could only pray to the Gods that he wouldn’t be punished for this later on.  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, so now we have Jean. Kind of an ass, isn't he? But, in his defense, this is kind of how masters would treat their slaves; as people beneath them. I couldn't find a whole lot of information on the Insubres clan, so I'm going to be taking artistic liberty on them. Same with Reiner's clan. I don't intend to dishonor these clans, but with the lack of information, I kind of have to make it up as we go along. Both their clans were real! Clementia was the Roman goddess of mercy, but I'm not sure if she was worshiped or well known as the others.
> 
> And I will be adding more tags as I add more chpaters. Cleopatra and Mark Antony did have three children together; the oldest two of them twins. Historians aren't exactly sure how their youngest child, Ptolemy Philadelphus, died, so he won't be in this story. He was about seven years old when he died and they think he probably died of illness in the winter. Alexander Helios and Cleopatra Selene did make it to Rome and were paraded around the city. Poor things.


	3. Octavian's triumph

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy this chapter. More notes at the bottom

“Oh, Erwin, you should have been there. Greece was simply beautiful.”

“I would have loved to visit, but I’m afraid since the feud with Octavian and Antony, travel just didn’t seem like a good idea at the time. “

Marco stared quietly at the wall, avoiding the urge to look at the visitors. Wine and dried bread with olive oil was continuously passed around by Sasha, who stared at the ground as she served the guests of the household. Light rain drizzled the ground outside, patterning the roof with little plinks that echoed in his ear. Another servant sat playing a Cithara sat quietly nearby, her delicate fingers strumming the strings in a peaceful manner. She looked a little tired, but other than that, she didn’t display any other emotion. Marco exhaled, wanting nothing more than to sit down. He’d been standing for over two hours; waiting behind Jean with his head slightly bowed.

“Are you going to the parade tomorrow?” the visiting man asked, popping a piece of bread into his mouth. “Octavian is probably looking forward to seeing you; even more so than his wife I imagine.”

“Olou!” the woman chided, sending an apologetic glance towards Erwin. “You shouldn’t say something like that. The Emperor loves his wife very much.”

The man, Olou kept laughing while the woman’s cheeks turned pink. Erwin just smiled pleasantly, holding his cup up. Reiner stepped forward, carefully pouring the contents into the cup. Marco only felt his arms ache more. Jean had barely drank anything and the pitcher was still quite heavy. The woman’s honey brown eyes met his for a moment and he looked down again. “Erwin, who’s the freckled boy? I haven’t seen him before.” She asked, looking curious.

Erwin looked over to him. “This is Jean’s new servant, Marco. I bought him earlier today from the prisoners they took from Gaul recently.”

“Well he’s cute; unlike some of the ones I’ve seen.”

“Yeah, they’re all so barbaric that sometimes I don’t even think they’re human.”

He felt his blood boil at that remark and his eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly. Glancing over to Reiner, he could see his golden eyes stare calmly on the scene, but his jaw clenched in a way to keep himself in check. Marco did the same, though his swallowed his pride down instead of clenching his jaw. He just had to remind himself that Romans were ignorant. They understood nothing; like children who couldn’t comprehend when they did something wrong.

The woman sighed, moving some of her orangish-reddish hair back. “You’ll have to forgive my husband; I think he’s had a little too much tonight,” she apologized to Erwin. “He has a bit of a loose tongue if you haven’t noticed.”

Erwin just smiled politely. “Oh trust me, I’ve noticed,” his smile became more teasing, something Marco found to be kind of odd. “You should have seen him in his younger days. He used to curse so much I thought that Jupiter might strike out and burn his tongue out.”

“Hm, if only that had happened.”

“Petra!” Oluo cried out, dismayed by the fact that she would say something like that. “You love it when I talk!”

“I do, but even I will admit you can be kind of...over-talkative at times. It’s a wonder that General Agrippa hasn’t thrown you out of the military yet.”

“Ah, well, who needs him,” Oluo spat out. “I stayed out of the battle this time. Egypt is way too hot for me. The last time I went there was when Caesar met Cleopatra. Dear Venus, she was a beauty.”

Petra just turned to glare at him. “Excuse me, but you’re wife is present.”

“Well she was beautiful, I’m not going to deny that,” Oluo replied in a somewhat smooth attempt to reassure his wife. “But not as beautiful as you.”

“As the woman who is bearing your child, I think it would be best if you don’t say that again,” Petra said coolly, taking a sip of her wine that stained her lips a red color before she licked them. “Anyway, Jean, you’ve been quiet this entire time. How have you been?”

Jean looked up towards her, shrugging his shoulders indifferently. “Fine,” he replied. “I’m looking forward to the parade tomorrow. The city’s been so boring since Octavian left to go fight Antony. It’ll be nice to have something fun to do for once.”

If that was the response Petra didn’t want, she didn’t say anything about it. Instead, she just smiled. “How are your studies going along?”

“Fine. Greek is so boring. I mean, who cares about Pythagoras and his stupid theorem. It’s not like I’m going to use it one day,” Jean rolled his eyes at the thought of his studies. “It’s not even challenging.”

Erwin gave him a slight look of disapproval. “A simple, “my studies are going well,” would have sufficed, Jean,” he reprimanded his nephew gently. “And maybe there is more to the theorem then you give it credit for. Perhaps there are more challenging applications for it.”

“If you say so, Uncle,” Jean remembered his manners, something he found a bit amusing. “Though I still think it’s a waste of time.”

“I’m surprised you’re still making him go to that old tutor of his,” Olou drawled, stirring his bread into the olive oil. “There’s nothing more he can learn here. And I mean no offense by this, Jean, but you don’t strike me as the type who would have the patience for philosophy.”

“I don’t,” Jean replied in between bites of his food. “I think it sounds boring. But Uncle insists that I’m not done with my education just yet.”

“There’s still more you can learn,” Erwin offered, not at all discouraged by Lou's criticism. “Just because society considers you a man now doesn’t mean that you are. You’re still very much naive to the world, Jean.”

“Gee, I haven’t heard you say that before,” Jean rolled his tawny eyes disrespectfully. Marco had to give a tiny frown at that. If he had said that in front of his father or any of the elders, his father would have punished him for sure. Jean took a long swig of his wine. “But don’t think this old tutor of mine is going to be teaching me anything important anymore.”

“Be that as it may, you’re still going to his sessions until I deem that you are ready to enter the society that we adults live in,” Erwin was very firm on this matter, staring his nephew down. “And since you are living in my home, you will be following my rules, understood?”

If Jean wanted to argue back, and Marco wouldn’t have been too surprised if he did, the young man didn’t. Instead, he just bowed his head in respect. “Yes, sir.”

Both Petra and Oluo exchanged looks. “It’s probably time we get going,” Petra murmured to her husband. “We don’t want to stay up too late and miss the Emperor’s triumphal parade tomorrow. We expect to see you there, Erwin. You too, Jean.”

They both stood up, allowing Marco to see that the ginger haired woman was indeed pregnant. He couldn’t be too sure, but she looked about five months along. He didn’t know if this was her first child, but he wished her well. From what he had noticed so far, she was a nice woman who wasn’t afraid to stand up to her husband when he crossed the line. Most women would be too afraid to do that.

“You should get some rest, Jean. We’ll be waking a bit earlier tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Jean replied, nodding towards his uncle. “Goodnight, Uncle.”

“Goodnight, Jean.”

The two of them went their separate ways; Reiner quickly following Erwin as Marco made haste to catch up to Jean. The boy was moody now, no doubt because his Uncle had lectured him in front of guests. Not that he didn’t deserve it. If he was his uncle he would have lectured him too.

“Hey, hurry up and undress me,” Jean ordered, not sounding polite at all. “I’m tired and I want to sleep.”

He removed the toga and tunic he wore underneath, keeping his eyes peeled to Jean’s upper body. He had a nice build for someone who lived in a very comfortable home. He quickly drapped his sleeping tunic over his head and waited for the other man to lie down in his bed. Instead, Jean just grabbed him by the collar of his tunic. “Don’t think I forgot what you did earlier today,” he growled, looking very angry now. “Just you wait till I have more energy, then you’ll be sorry!”

He pushed him back, letting Marco stumble a little. Marco quickly caught his step, maintaining his composure. “Will there be anything else?”

“Just get out.”

Sighing in relief, he retreated away. There wasn’t much he could do to escape the rain so he hurried towards the barracks as fast as he could. Most of the slaves were in their beds by now and for the seventh hundredth time that day, he felt awkward. There was nowhere for him to sleep. Besides Reiner and Sasha, he didn’t know anyone else.

“Come on, you can share a bunk with me. The guy who did left today,” Reiner clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Lucky bastard. It’ll probably be another forty years till I’m free. If I don’t die by then.”

“Reiner!”

“What? I’m just being honest.”

He followed Reiner towards one of the top bunks, settling in beside him. He turned to face the blonde Germanic man. Reiner just smiled softly. “So, how was Jean?”

“I...accidentally threw him off the bed.”

Reiner blinked several times, processing all that in before a laugh broke through his lips. A few of the slaves around them stared at him with either curious, annoyed, or tired faces. He ran a hand through his blonde hair, continuing to laugh. “Oh man, that’s the most hilarious thing I’ve heard all day. Thank Jupiter that someone finally put him in his place.”

“You hate him that much?” he asked, a little confused. “He’s a bit of a jerk, but honestly, there is worse out there.”

“Oh, I don't hate him,” Reiner amended. “I just think he’s a brat. I started working here when I was ten, and Jean’s been here since I was fifteen. He thinks he runs this place sometimes and acts like he always needs to get what he wants. Why did you throw him off the bed in the first place?”

He flushed hard, thinking of the memory. “He...tried to have sex with me.”

“Gee, what a shock.”

“Reiner!”

“Sorry,” he ruffled Marco’s dark hair. “It’s just that Jean is like any other Roman man. He likes sex and thinks that every young slave he takes a fancy to has to give him sex. You’re the first person to actually deny him.”

That didn’t make him feel a whole lot better. “Is that a bad thing or a good thing?”

“Depends. He might take it as a challenge to earn your affection, which is a good thing for him I guess. Or, he might take it as an act of revolting against him, which for you, is a bad thing. Either way, you’re probably going to get in trouble for it.”

“Dear Gods, is Erwin going to have me beaten for pushing his nephew off a bed?”

Reiner only shook his head. “Nah, Erwin wouldn't do that. If you hit him several times then he might have you beaten a few times. Besides, Erwin takes sex very seriously. If you deny Jean from it, he’ll understand. Especially when it comes to virgins. But you’ve had sex before, right?” he then sat up a little straighter. “You’ve never had sex before, have you?”

Marco just blushed even harder. “No, I haven’t. I don’t take it as a bad thing though, I’m not some whore who goes around sleeping with others,” he added bitterly. “Have you had sex?”

“Oh sure, a bunch of times. Do you think I’m a whore?”

“No! That’s not what I was implying! I didn’t mean to offend you, I-”

“Relax,” Reiner yawned, wrapping his hands behind his head. “Now, you don’t move around in your sleep, do you? Or talk?”

Marco shook his head. “I don’t thinks so,” he shrugged. “If I do, I guess we’ll find out.”

“Yeah, I guess we will,” Reiner yawned, closing his eyes. “Now, get some sleep. You survived your first day. Tomorrow is going to be busy, so try to get some sleep in.”

He nodded, turning over to his right side as Reiner’s breathing grew steadier. Most slaves were asleep by this point; some breathing softly while others snored loudly. The rain was now pouring down violently and the sound of thunder clapped in the distance with the occasional flash of lightning. He felt homesickness sink in, but he refused to tear up. He was safe, he was being fed. Out of all the masters he could have had, the Gods had decided he was a good enough person to be shown mercy to.

Either that, or he escaped a terrible fate by an extremely small thread of destiny.

 

* * *

 

Waking up Jean was a task that required more patience than Marco had this morning. The two toned haired male grumbled curse words at him in Latin, pulling the blanket closer to his body. “Go away,” he grumbled, not opening his eyes. “I want to sleep. It’s too early to get up.”

Marco just stood to the side patiently, nervously looking at the ever rising sun in the window. “Jean, Erwin wants to leave in an hour and you still need to eat breakfast. Now, please get up.”

“No.”

Damnit, he did not have time for this. The last thing he wanted was for Erwin to get upset with him for not getting up his brat of a nephew on time. He placed his hands on his hips. “Jean, if you do not get up from that bed in the next five minutes, so help me I will ask Ambisagrus to strike you down!”

Jean blinked one eye open, looking at him with one eyebrow raised. “You know, you look pretty sexy when you’re posed like that,” Marco visibly flushed and turned away. Jean sat up, yawning quite loudly. “And who in Cydoimus’ name is Ambisagrus?”

“My God, my people’s God, of thunder and lightning, “ he filled the basin near his bed with warm water. “Now, are you going to get out of bed or not? You’re going to miss the parade if you do.”

Jean stretched, arms above his head as he walked away from his rather comfortable looking bed. He splashed water on his face, some of it falling to the floor and on Marco. He handed Jean his tunic and a new clean toga, helping it on him carefully so it wouldn’t tear. He helped him arrange his hair so it wouldn’t look like he just got out of bed. Jean just smirked. “You sure are cute.”

Marco just turned his head away. “We should get going now; you still need to eat breakfast before you go off to the parade.”

“You’re going ot, aren’t you?”

Marco cocked his head. “I am?”

“Well everyone can go to the parade. Nobles, commoners, slaves, freedmen, anyone. You’re also needed because after the parade, Erwin and I are having lunch with the Emperor and will be staying there till after dinner. Your presence will be required.”

Marco just nodded, and Jean gave a loud sigh. He followed his new “master,” outside of the room and into the living area where Erwin was seated, sipping his wine carefully with a plate of fruit and bread in front of him. Breakfast was quiet; and Marco found himself noticing that these two didn’t say a whole lot to each other. He could tell it wasn’t that they disliked each other; but rather that they were two different people. Of course though, he didn’t know for sure. He’d only been working for them for a day.

A very large litter awaited the two men, and Marco’s eyes widened a little at it. It looked like a tiny little room with windows and two large curtains replacing the doors. Jean and Erwin stepped in it, sitting down comfortably. He jumped when he felt a hand touch his shoulder, turning around to meet Sasha’s laughable and bright brown eyes. “Don’t worry,” she whispered to him. “You won’t be expected to carry that. They use the big strong men to do that.”

True to her word, he noticed four men take one of the ends of the litter, picking it up slowly. Reiner was included in that group and he waved with one hand towards them; muscles bulging at the weight he was carrying. Marco just looked on in bewilderment. “I don’t know how they can carry all that,” he admitted to Sasha as they slowly walked behind the two rich men. “It looks unbearably heavy.”

“Well, these men have been working more of the laborious jobs around the villa; so they’re going to be more fit to carrying it. Erwin only uses the litter for special occasions; he walks pretty much everywhere or rides a horse.”

It was becoming near impossible to make their way through the crowd of people gathering and keep their eyes trained on the litter at the same time. Soldiers were stationed everywhere either looking alert or excited for the upcoming parade. Banners and laurels were being thrown around and just about everyone looked excited. Food merchants were trying to sell their goods on the street and some stations were even selling wreaths, but hardly anyone was focused on them. The sun was hiding behind a few clouds, but Marco could tell it wasn’t going to rain. Sasha hummed. “I hope the triumph starts soon. I need to get back to the kitchen to plan tomorrow’s meal.”

He gave her a shocked look, wondering why on earth she would want to do that so early. “But it’s not even noon yet!” he protested. “You don’t care about the triumph?”

“Not really,” she shrugged, pulling a potato out of nowhere and munching on it. “I mean, I guess it’s nice for the Emperor and all, but I don’t really care. I just want food.”

“But you’re eating a potato.”

“So? I’m still hungry!”

He only felt confused by this and didn’t bother questioning her anymore. The litter was then set down towards the back and Marco now realized they were near the Senate house; the place where Caesar was murdered fourteen years ago. He wasn’t even a year old yet, but his father told him that everyone in Gaul was celebrating the man’s death. He stared up at the white marble building, a chill rising up his spine at the thought of the man’s death. Being stabbed in the back thirty times sounded gruesome.

“Oi, Erwin!”

He jumped when he heard a voice call out his master’s name. A short man, even shorter than himself, walked right up to Erwin. He had to stifle a laugh because he only reached the center of Erwin’s chest and had to crane his neck to look up at the taller man. He wouldn’t have taken this man very serious if not for the look he gave Erwin. His eyes were gray, an intimidating shade of gray that rivaled storm clouds. Permanent dark circles had formed its way under his eyes. His silky looking black hair was cut in an undercut way, but it looked good on him. Marco couldn’t help but feel kind of shy around this man. He would never say it outloud, but he looked very attractive.

Erwin smiled, pulling the man into a quick hug. The other man grumbled something, pulling away, but Marco could tell that he didn’t look upset. “Levi,” Erwin greeted. “It’s been too long since I’ve seen your face. How have you been?”

“Bored. I was too busy trying to keep those idiots in Senate to remain calm while Octavian was away,” he noticed that he didn’t call the man Emperor, something that everyone was calling him now. “You’ve been away for a while.”

“Ah, well, there were other concerning matters to address at the time,” Erwin glanced over to Jean, who was looking over Levi’s shoulder. “And I had no intention of going to Egypt. I’m afraid my military days are done. I’ve got to make sure Jean here is settled in his future.”

Levi just glanced over to Jean. “He’s fifteen now, right?” Erwin nodded and Levi just sighed. “I see your reasoning. He still looks like a child.”

“Hey!”

“Jean,” Erwin warned. “Levi, why don’t you stand with us during the triumph?”

“I was going to anyway, so there was no point to asking.”

“Where’s your cousin?” Erwin smiled pleasantly, acknowledging to where Jean was craning his neck to look for someone. “Isn’t she coming?”

“I’m right here.”

Marco practically jumped at the voice that materialized behind him. An exoticly beautiful girl around his age stood before him, several inches shorter than himself. A simple, yet ordinately designed cream colored stola adorned her slender body; a simple red pala that looked like a scarf draped around it. Her long, silk like black hair was kept in a simple bun behind her head. At a first glance, she could pass as an everyday Roman noblewoman, but her facial features didn't’ look right. Not that she was ugly; Gods forbid, but she looked different. His mother had once told him that there were people who came from the far east; whose features were so different from their own. Orientals, is what she called them, and standing before him was one. Her dark, midnight colored eyes looked at him coolly. “You’re a slave,” she pointed out calmly, almost bluntly. “You  have freckles. I don’t see many people with freckles.”

“Your cousin has a way with words Levi,” Erwin smirked, patting the man on the back. “She’s almost like you.”

“Hm, whatever.”

Jean waltzed over to where the two teens were, flashing a bright smile towards the oriental girl. “Good morning, Mikasa,” he smiled flirtatiously. “You look really lovely this morning.”

All Mikasa did was stare blankly at him. “Thank you.”

Sasha spoke up, reminding everyone that she was still there. “Where’s Eren and Armin?” she asked, looking around. “I don’t see them.”

“They’re here,” Mikasa reassured, a small smile growing on her face at the mention of the two names. “They went to get food.”

“Hope they bring me some,” she huffed. “I’m hungry.”

“You just ate a potato,” Jean said, though he didn’t look very surprised by this. “It’s a wonder you aren’t fat by now.”

“Hey, that’s mean! You shouldn’t-oommf!”

Marco only gaped a little as Mikasa shoved a random piece of bread into the girl’s mouth. Jean just shook his head, though he acknowledged Reiner when he appeared, dragging a boy with short dark brown hair and parted curtain-like bangs with him. Another boy with expressive blue eyes and shoulder length blonde hair followed behind him. “Found this for you, Mikasa,” Reiner laughed, releasing the boy who gave him an angry scowl. “I don’t know what he was doing, but I caught him trying to fight with one of the venders.”

“He was charging way too high for a freaking piece of bread!” the boy grumbled, shaking off Mikasa’s hand. “And he was being really rude, too.”

“It’s a triumph day, what do you expect, Eren?” the blonde boy sighed in exasperation. “I tried to stop you, but you wouldn’t listen.”

Mikasa turned her cool gaze towards the blonde. “Thank you, Armin,” she began softly, causing Armin to flush pink. She then turned to Reiner. “Thank you for bringing him to me.”

“No problem, Mikasa.”

“And Eren, getting into fights like that are stupid,” she reprimanded, though Marco could see the love in her eyes as she spoke to him. Not like a lover, but like a really close friend. “People could have been hurt. It’s very crowded today.”

“Are you brats coming or not?” Levi appeared before them again, glaring specifically at Eren. “Shitty brat, if you’ve been getting into trouble again I’ll have you whipped and forced to sleep on the cold ground.”

Eren just gave a mock salute. “Yes sir!” he quickly hurried over to the older man, being at least a few inches taller than him. “And you wouldn’t whip me; you like me too much.”

“Keep telling yourself that. Now shut up; the triumph is starting.”

Marco found himself standing close to Jean, who was now shamelessly trying to get closer to Mikasa. The girl was having none of that and moved to step in between Eren and Armin, taking both of the boys’ hands. It was a simple act of being close to one another, but Marco had a sense that the three of them had a history together. Jean cast a jealous look towards the two boys who now were gently pressing her hand back in return, but he said nothing and turned his eyes back towards the now almost empty streets.

“I think the last triumph we had was when Caesar defeated Pompey back in 46 and was held when he returned to Rome from his little trip to Egypt,” smirked, though Marco had no idea why. “I wasn't there of course, I was only four and still with my people.”

Marco just nodded, reminding himself to ask Reiner or one of the other older servants more about Rome’s history. He knew bits and pieces of it, like how the birth of the first two leaders and a bit of information on Caesar’s murder, but that was about it. Everything else was a complete mystery to him.

“It’s starting!” Sasha exclaimed, removing the potato from her mouth temporarily. “Here they come!”

A group of six soldiers stepped out, holding Cornu’s and Roman tuba’s to their lips, the sound coming out quite loudly. People cheered, throwing out flowers while some seemed to be throwing out clouds of incense as more of them walked by slowly. Through the flowers and clouds of perfumes, Marco could see the prisoners. In gray chains, former Egyptian soldiers and some palace servants to the Queen and her lover were marched forward.

They were solemn, he noted, with some holding their heads down in shame while others kept their up in strong pride. He felt disgust rise in him. How could these people find entertainment in this? These slaves and prisoners had feelings too. How would they feel if they were being led through a parade like this instead? He swallowed down the anger, looking towards the other people around him. Jean was cheering, throwing incense towards the procession. Armin and Eren kept their looks reserved while Mikasa just looked on in slight sympathy. Sasha munched loudly on her potato while Reiner just looked...well, Reiner looked enamored by something, but he wasn’t sure of what.

He gasped a little when a bright object caught his eye. Past the last group of prisoners, a large chariot was brought out. A driver smiled largely at the crowd while waving a little, but all Marco noticed were the golden chains hooked to the cart. Two small children were chained to the chariot, the gold illuminating their tanned skin. They looked beyond terrified, tears streaming down their faces; but he could they they were trying to keep calm. He instantly wanted to break their chains and hold them tight.

He lost interest in the parade after that, wishing it could just be over. Egyptian treasures were brought out the minute the children passed, a whole ten minutes of Egyptian relics being shown to the common and noble people. Following the treasures, Roman senators and magistrates in their togas waved towards the crowd cheerfully, more people cheering as they walked by, waving towards the people. A chariot rode out behind them with a man in Military uniform rode by. He looked rather uninterested by the parade; unlike his companion who drove a chariot beside him. He waved to the crowd, cheering quite loudly.

“That’s Gaius Cilnius Maecenas,” Reiner whispered to him quite loudly. “The bored one is Agrippa, Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa.”

He just nodded, continuing to look uninterested until a grand chariot, even more elegant than the ones before, rode out. He wouldn't deny it, but the Emperor was handsome. Not exotically like Mikasa, but in a way that was unusual. His hair; almost goldne looked only a little curly. His eyes, a blue-grey looking color were sharp and bright, staring out into the crowd with a smug look that could easily be read as amusement. He shivered once out of fear; the small chilling feeling tingling up his spine. This was not a man he would want after him.

He looked towards Reiner, but the man still had a pink hue to his face. “What’s with you?” he asked in genuine concern. “Did you see a treasure or something that caught your eye?”

“I saw a treasure alright,” his hue darkened and he laughed a little. “It’s nothing; I’m fine.”

“Okay,” he nodded, Sasha appearing out of the corner of his eye as she disappeared towards the direction of Erwin’s home. “So, where do we go now?”

“To the Emperor’s home,” Reiner sighed, where we wait on our masters all day.”

He inwardly sighed, knowing full well that this was going to be a long day.

* * *

 

He didn’t know how many people were at this party, but from all the heads he could count, there were over two hundred guests. Probably more, but with so many people running around finding places to sit, it was near impossible to tell. Marco sighed, holding a large pitcher of wine as he trailed after Jean, pouring wine for people who held out their goblets for it. Erwin had instructed him when they reached the palace to look after Jean. And since he didn’t want Erwin upset with him, he sadly had to follow the boy around.

Jean was obviously a social butterfly, walking around the home with a charming smile on his face. Marco couldn’t be sure if people actually liked him or were just pretending to. He seemed to be able to socialize with people pretty well. Unlike Mikasa, who stood near the wall with a cool and slightly unapproachable vibe emanating from her. The only two people she actually allowed near her was Eren and Armin. He sighed, following Jean as he walked up to a blonde haired boy around his age. “Thomas,” he greeted, smile widening. “Your back from Greece. Did you enjoy your silly philosophy lessons?”

The young man, Thomas, groaned. “I wish I didn’t have to study it, but Father insists that I do,” he rolled his eyes. “I have to return in a few days, and it’ll be another two years before I’m done with the garbage.”

“I feel bad for you,” Jean laughed, though Marco could pick up that he did feel some sympathy to his friend. “I’m so glad Erwin isn’t making me study philosophy.”

“Hey, who’s your new servant?”

Jean glanced over towards him. “Oh, this is Marco,” he was a little surprised that Jean remembered his name, but kept a polite smile on his face. “I just got him yesterday.”

“He has freckles,” Thomas leaned forward a little to stare at them. “I’ve never actually seen freckles before. I mean, I’ve seen them, but not that often.”

The two of them kept chatting while Marco fought the urge to roll his eyes. Why did everyone comment on his freckles? No one back home did, but here in Rome, a majority of people always commented on them. Didn’t they have better things to do with their time?

“Man, look at Mikasa! She’s so beautiful! Why won’t Levi just let us get married already? She’s of age!”

Thomas shrugged. “I guess Levi doesn’t care at this moment. Besides, we’ve known Miksas since she started living with Levi when she and Eren began to live with him when they were nine. I don’t think she’s interested in getting married right now.”

“What shame,” Jean gave a tiny pout. “She’d have the most beautiful children. If only Eren would just get out of the picture.”

“I don’t think it’s Eren she’s interested, if you know what I mean,” Thomas’ voice dropped down a little lower. “She treats Eren more like a brother or a really good friend. Besides, I heard Levi’s taken a fancy to Eren.”

“No way! You can't be serious!”

“I am!” Thomas nodded vigorously. “I don’t know if it’s true, but that’s what I heard. And Eren is a man now, so it shouldn’t really matter, but considering how Levi is the grouchiest thing ever it’s a bit of a surprise that he would like anyone.”

Jean just shook his head, glancing towards the teal-eyed boy. “I never would have thought,” he then paused. “Actually, I can. He’s been somewhat...nicer to him, as of recently.”

“Well, I guess. Back to the subject of Mikasa though, I don’t know what you see in her. Yeah, she’s pretty, but not that pretty,” Thomas then sighed. “There’s a girl I noticed here from Greece who's come to perform with her troupe tonight. I swear to you that her beauty rivals Venus.”

“Be careful, you never know that she could be listening.”

Thomas then cursed an apology, looking up towards the heavens. “I hope she didn’t hear that. I only meant to say that I thought she is beautiful.”

“What does she look like?”

“I’ll point her out to you later.”

The two young men then bid their goodbyes temporarily, Jean waltzing off to go speak with Mikasa. Marco poured more wine in five more cups before he realized that the pitcher was empty. He told Jean he would be back; not sure if the young man heard him, and then hurried towards the direction of the kitchen. More servants hurried past him, carrying food and wine, none of them really paying attention to him. He walked slowly, the pitcher placed carefully in his hands.

“Hey! Slave!”

He turned around, ears turning a bit pink from being called such a dehumanizing word. A man, who looked like he had a little too much to drink, sauntered towards him. He stumbled a little, tripping over his own feet as wine sloshed out of his cup. He set it down on the table filled with wine pitchers, grabbing Marco’s arm none-too-gently. “You’re a slave, aren’t you boy?”

“Yes,” he answered carefully. “Can I help you, sir?”

“I think you can,” he slammed Marco into the wall, ignoring his yelp of surprise. He slid a leg into between Marco’s thighs, leaning in so their noses were touching. He tried to pull away; the man’s breath reeking of wine and other things. The man just pinned his wrists above his head, the other hand sliding in between his legs. “Now, relax and I promise to make you feel good  too.”

“No!” he spat out, managing to aim a kick into the man’s shin. The drunken man howled, holding his shin in pain.

“You little brat!” he growled, latching himself onto Marco again. “You will pay for this! Pull a stunt like that again and I’ll-”

“Hey!”

Both of them turned to see a rather tall man standing before them, eyes narrowed in anger at the site before them. The drunk stepped back a little, trying to act professional. “What do you want?” he slurred. “I don't have to answer to you.”

“The Emperor has been looking for this slave. He is the one who pours his wine. Do you really want to make the Emperor angry?”

The drunk paled, still sober enough to understand the threat this man was implying. He scurried away, not even glancing back at the two of them. Marco sighed in relief, looking up towards the tall man. “Thanks,” he said, offering a small smile. “That could have been a lot worse.”

“Yeah,” the tall man smiled shyly, losing the firm look he had earlier. “It could have been.”

He studied the man, finding himself having to crane his neck up to look at him. The only ones around this young man’s height he had seen would be Reiner and Erwin, but while they were more muscular, this man was slender. His green eyes were gentle, fitting well against his elongated face. “Are you okay?” he asked in a quiet voice. “He didn’t...do anything, did he?”

“No,” Marco shook his head, offering a friendly smile. “You showed up before he could. My name is Marco, Marco Bott.”

“Bertolt Hoover. Do you work in the palace?”

“No, I work for Erwin Smith. I was bought just yesterday, in fact. I was captured from my tribe in Gaul along with my sister,” he grimaced at the thought. “I am now his nephew’s personal servant.”

“That sounds awful,” Bertolt looked at him in sympathy. “I’m afraid I’m new here as well. I just came here from Egypt.”

He would have chatted more with the tall man, but Jean came waltzing down the hall. “Where have you been?” he asked, glaring. “It doesn't take this long to get wine.”

“Sorry,” Marco admitted sheepishly. “There was a little issue with one of the nobles.”

“What?”

“He, uh, well...tried to molest me,” he watched as Jean’s angry face looked surprised. “Bertolt here helped me. Would you like more wine?”

Jean turned to say something to Bertolt, but the taller man had already disappeared. The noble boy sighed, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling. “Point out the man and I’ll punish him for it, alright?” he just nodded, finding it a bit surprising that Jean would do that, until the latter finished his sentence. “No one touches my property without my consent.”

He followed Jean back to the party, where the dancers from Greece that the Thomas boy had mentioned arrived. Ten of them, draped in red scarves and dressed in dark linen danced around, bells attached to their palms as they moved around the room. Thomas headed over to them, pointing towards one of the dancers in the middle. “That’s the pretty one,” he whispered to Jean. “The girl with the dark hair in pigtails.”

Marco looked towards to where the blonde was pointing, seeing a girl with fair skin and dark hair kept in pigtails. She lifted her hands in the air, the bells tied to her hands clanging loudly. Her eyes were the color of the moon; different from Levi’s. While the man’s looked like intense storm clouds, hers were illuminating and lively. Thomas was right, for a girl, she was very beautiful.

“I guess she’s pretty,” Jean commented. “But Mikasa is still the prettiest.”

Marco lost interest in their conversation, which had now turned into an argument. Instead, he looked around the room, seeing all the guests. He could see Reiner talking to a young man with closely shave hair. Mikasa still stood at the wall with Eren and Armin now eating food. If Eren noticed Levi staring at him from across the room, he pretended not to notice. Erwin was now in an intense conversation with the Emperor and a woman with a cold expression. Near the Emperor on his left several seats down, sat two children with numb expressions on their faces. Bertolt stood behind them, hands behind his back as he stared calmly out towards the crowd.

However, the only face that stood out was one that Marco knew very well. His blood froze at the sight of the man now staring boredly towards the dancers. His black mustache and goatee stood out as he crossed his arms. Nile Dok, adorned in a toga, stood only a few feet away from him. Two women stood beside him; one obviously his wife dressed in a deep purple stola and white palla. Her dark brown hair was curled; her deep brown eyes smiling in contrast to her husband’s cool gaze. The girl who stood behind them looked completely different. He didn’t know if they were her parents or not, but she did not look like them. While the two adults next to her were tall and dark haired, she had bright, almost shiny golden hair. Her eyes were wide and gentle blue with a pure shine to them. She was beautiful; her looks rivaling a goddess.

“That’s Nile Dok and his wife, Maria,” Reiner clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Now I know who you were talking about yesterday.”

“Who’s the girl?”

“That’s his ward,” Reiner responded, nodding towards the tiny blonde girl. “Historia Dok. She’s not his daughter; actually, no one knows who her family is. They were nobles and I guess they gave her to them. There must have been a huge scandal or something.”

“I need to ask him about Ymir.”

“Don’t do that,” the muscular man stared deep into his eyes. “It’ll look bad and it will embarrass you. I can talk to his servants and see if they know anything, but don’t draw attention to yourself. It won’t look good for you or for the household. Just bide your time and eventually, things will work out.”

All he could do was stand there and feel despair wash over him like rain. Reiner was right; he couldn’t do anything about his sister right now. All he could do was wait. He turned his gaze towards Erwin, but it wasn’t his master that caught his gaze, it was the Emperor’s. Cool hard eyes met his and he shivered instinctively as the older man stared at him for a long time before turning away.

In the distance, the music kept going and the Grecian dancers kept dancing away. The pretty girl with dark hair dancing away to a tune that he could no longer hear.

**  
  
  
  
  
  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yes, after Octavian defeated Antony and Cleopatra, their two surviving children were paraded through Rome in golden chains. I used resources on how Roman triumphs were done, so I hope it went alright. Poor Marco, still looking for his sister. We did introduce quite a few more characters, and all of them in ancient Roman attire XD 
> 
> All the info I could find on Octavian's home is kind of jumbled and the different sites I was on said different things, so for this story, we're going to say he lived in a grand palace.


	4. Annie Leonhardt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the support guys! I hope you are all enjoying thus far! Sorry we haven't had too many Jean and Marco interactions, but we're getting there. Slowly, but it will happen! Getting ready for college is kind of stressful, but it's also kind of fun. I can't wait to go!

“So, where exactly is Jean’s class?”

Marco whispered to Reiner as they walked through the busy crowded streets of Rome. The mid-October sun hid briefly behind a cloud, creating a small shadow that cast down on the citizens. Never before in his life had he seen so much diversity. The nobles called the lower class Plebeians, though he wasn’t quite sure why. Jewish people, freedmen and slaves from Gaul and Germania, and traders and slaves from Africa. All of  them had gathered in this area, trading and selling goods ranging from meat to simple pairs of shoes.

“Not too far,” Reiner replied cheerfully. “We should be there pretty soon. With how crowded things are now since the triumph, I have to go with you two for a while.  Erwin’s orders.”

He nodded, finding sense in that. Jean just grumbled at them to hurry up, not exactly pleased that he had to go back to his tutor. While the shorter man was grumpy, he hadn’t exactly kept his promise on making him suffer for pushing him off the bed. It had been several days since the event and nothing had happened. He considered that maybe he should be worried, but at the same time, considered that maybe Jean had forgotten his promise. He hoped for the latter.

“We’re coming, young dominus,” Reiner assured the man smoothly. “There is no rush to get to your lessons.”

“Tch, whatever.”

Marco frowned. Well, that was exceedingly rude. He shared a look with the broad Germanic man, who merely shrugged at him. Looks like their wasn’t much either of them could do about Jean’s distasteful attitude. At least, not right now. 

The home of the tutor was rather large compared to homes surrounding it. While still pretty far from the market, the neighborhood was quiet; peaceful. A woman stood outside, dressed in a simple long brown tunic. “Dominus,” she greeted, taking Jean’s bag from his hand. “Master Aristeides is waiting for you. Shall I have your slaves stay in the kitchen?”

“No,” Jean then turned around to face them. “Go back to the market and buy some things for me. I have a list; take it and don’t forget anything.”

“Will do,” Reiner nodded, handing Marco the list. “Anything else?”

“Just don’t steal my money and we’ll be good.”

Marco couldn’t help but roll his eyes as the servant led him away. The second they were out the door, Reiner let out a sigh. “Good riddance,” he grumbled. “It is so good to be away from that spoiled brat.”

“I agree,” he wrapped pressed his arms together as they walked down the narrow corridor of the street, wishing he had his fur cloak from home. It was frightfully cold here; not cold enough for snow, but still there was a cold nip in the air. November would soon be here and he did not want to imagine what winter in Rome would be like. “Dear Cailleach Bheur it is cold out.”

Reiner nodded, adjusting his long sleeved tunic. “Yeah, winters here can get pretty cold. It doesn’t snow very deep here; not like back home.”

“What?”

“Sorry,” the blonde man flushed a little, possibly due to the cold wind that blew in his face. “Forget sometimes that you’re not from Germania. The area I lived in had very harsh and cold winters. Sometimes the snow could reach up to my  thighs as a child. Yet, the summers were usually very nice.”

“Yeah, it didn’t snow so much  where we lived either,” he glanced down at the small scroll in his hand. “Okay, so first we need...flat ligna? What’s that?”

Reiner took the list from his hand, staring at the words carefully. “Flat wood. You’ll learn a lot of these words soon enough.”

“What would he need flat wood for?”

“I don’t know; and I don’t really care,” Reiner handed him the list. “What he does in his own time is his business. When he’s not fucking some slave.”

Marco turned pink. “Reiner!”

Reiner smirked, ruffling his hair. “It’s the truth buddy; gotta accept it,” he motioned him along. “Just follow me; I have someone I want you to meet.”

He nodded, following the taller man down the busy streets. Past the merchants and traders, past the baker’s shop, and even past some of the nobles who were looking at jewelry and other fine artifacts. They continued to walk up towards an area of two different heights divided by a steep cleft providing a roadway. A whole gathering of buildings stood in the hill area, creating a sort of village. “Where are we?” he asked, almost bumping into two small children. “It looks kind of dangerous.”

“The Aventine. And, if you piss off the wrong people it can be,” Reiner chuckled. “Just don’t give anyone funny looks or stare too long and you’ll be fine.”

He nodded, not wanting to find out what some of these rugged and muscular people would do to him. He shivered, noticing one man glaring at him intently, but refused to make eye contact. Reinere just hummed as he walked, stepping up towards one of the homes and stopping at the entrance of the shop. A wave of heat immediately greeted him, a lone man standing in front of the hearth of the fire, pounding away at a sword with his mallet. He only looked up when he noticed Reiner and grinned. “Reiner!” he set his tool down, greeting the broad man with a hug. “My boy, it’s been too long. What brings you here?”

“Just stopping to say hi,” Reiner smiled friendly at him. “It’s been two months since I’ve seen you.”

“Ah, well, it’s good to see the boy I practically raised,” the man smacked him on the back. His bright blue eyes turned to Marco, and his smile dropped a little. “Who’s this? He doesn’t look Roman.”

“This is Marco,” Reiner introduced. “Marco, this is Daedalos Leonhardt. He worked for Erwin up until I was eighteen.”

“You must be new,” Daedalos smiled, but not unkindly. “Are you from Gaul?”

“Yeah,” he answered, a bit surprised. “How did you know?”

“I can see the bracelet around your arm; I recognize the design,” the old man picked up his mallet, moving it towards the other counter. “Annie isn’t here right now. To be honest, I don’t know where she went.”

Reiner rolled his eyes. “Of course she’s not here,” he put his hands on his hips. “Do you mind if we go look for her? I want her to meet Marco.”

The man nodded. “Be my guest; but good luck. Looking for her is like looking for a black dog in the night,” he chuckled, shaking his head fondly. “My daughter sure is something else.”

“You’re right about that,” the muscular man pulled on his arm, practically dragging him out the door. “Come along Marco, let’s go find Annie.”

He followed along without much process, more than happy to leave the area with all the tough looking people. Even Daedalos looked frighteningly impressive. He didn’t look cruel, but Marco knew a warrior’s expression when he saw it. Whatever life this man had, he knew a few certains ways on how to kill a man. Marco just hoped it would never be him. 

“Now if I were Annie, where would I be,” Reiner stopped, looking around the market. “She would never go into a tavern this early in the day. She doesn’t care much for shopping; too many people...hmmm….Ah ha! I got it!”

Once again, Marco felt himself being dragged along, flailing in protest as Reiner marched happily along the city. They walked for a good ten minutes before reaching the river, where a bunch of ships using nets to catch fish were docked and other ships filled with cargo. The area smelt like rotten fish, but he didn’t have anything to cover his mouth and nose with. Reiner was unaffected, searching along the pier until he spotted someone. “There she is! Oi, Annie!”

A lone woman was standing rather boredly by the edge with a fishing pole. Her blue eyes reflected the water calmly and even as she turned her gaze towards Reiner, her expression didn’t change. Reiner seemed extremely happy to see her. “Annie!” he picked her up in a hug, and Marco almost had to stifle a laugh because of how tense she got, but her expression never changed. “Annie, it’s been two long.”

“It’s been two months, idiot.”

He feigned hurt. “Ah, Annie, you wound me.”

“Good,” she then caught his gaze. “Who’s the boy?”

He couldn’t help himself; he started to stand like a solider. “Marco,” he answered her question. “Marco Bodt from the Insubres clan.”

Apparently she understood the pride in his voice, and she moved a strand of blonde hair back. “You Erwin’s new slave or Jean’s?”

“Jean’s.”

“Has he fucked you yet?”

“Annie!” Reiner laughed, placing a large hand on her tiny shoulder. “Easy on the guy! Just about everyone he’s met has asked him that.”

She continued to stare at him. “Has he?” she asked again. “Because Jean has always fucked his slaves on the first night.”

He shifted uncomfortably. “He tried to,” he replied honestly. “But I kind of threw him off the bed.”

In the background, he could hear Reiner snicker. Annie, however, appeared unfazed. “Did he beat you?”

“No.”

“Hm.”

Gods, she sounded like Mikasa. He wondered if she knew that, or even if she knew the Orient girl. Annie again moved the right strand of blonde hair from her face, adjusting her long simple brown tunic. Reiner picked up her basket, which earned him an irritated look from the woman. As they walked through the market, he continued to observe the two of them. They were close, but he didn’t know enough of their back stories to know how close. From what Daedalos had said, he’d raised Reiner since he’d come into Erwin’s household. If that was so, then these two had probably spent a lot of time together. If Annie disliked Reiner, then she wouldn’t tolerate being around him. He got that vibe from her that she was the kind of person that wouldn't be around others if she didn’t like them or at least have some respect towards them. Just by looking at them, they appeared to almost be siblings. Siblings who argued a lot, but he could sense that they cared strongly about each other. Well, he assumed anyway.

“So yeah, there was this really hot guy at the Triumph feast; I mean like, super hot. Gods Annie, he was so tall and so...foreign,” Reiner sighed dreamily. “I never even got his name.”

“Gee, what a shame.”

Reiner just sighed. “And his ass, Annie,” he continued to swoon. “I swear, his beauty would put even Freyja on the war path.”

“Careful what you say,” Annie began flatly. “I’m sure if she heard that, she would be most displeased. Though she might not do anything; the Gods probably don’t exist.”

Marco felt a gasp escape his lips before he could even stop it. Annie turned her head to stare at him. “How could you say that?” he asked, wetting his dry lips. “Don't you know they can hear you?”

“And?” she returned her gaze towards of a group of priests now walking in a line holding a candle. “I’m not a fool; I don’t follow things blindly. Those old religious fools; most of them are frauds anyway. No, I will follow what I want to follow, not what some religious official wants me to follow.”

He had no idea what to say to that. He’d been told that people who abandoned the Gods were damned for all eternity, but did he have the right to say that to her? Maybe Roman Gods were different. Maybe they would test her or something; he didn't really know. 

They paused by a shop, the smell of different oils and wood clouding his senses. Reiner took a good look at the list and stepped up to the owner of the shop. “Excuse me sir, but I need five boards of flat ligna.”

“Of course,” the woodsmith stepped around the small table with a project he’d currently been working on. “Would you like them as boards or would you like them cut?”

“Cut into twenty pieces for each board.”

“Will do, sir. That will be ten sestertius.”

Reiner fished around in the cloth, pulling out ten gold coins and handing them to the man. The man took them, rather greedily, but set out to work on cutting the boards. “What’s next on the list?” he asked, looking at the list. “Brushes?”

“Paint brushes,” Reiner nodded. “Annie, do you know where that vendor is? This might take a while. We’ll meet back at your father’s house.”

Annie didn't even protest, she just began to walk away as Marco hurriedly took the bag of coins from the Germanic man. For someone so short, she sure could walk fast. It took him a whole minute to catch up with her long pace. He didn’t know if he should strike up a conversation with her or not, but he went ahead and did it. “So...your father worked for Erwin?”

“Yes,” she continued to look at the road in front of her. “We both did.”

“Oh.”

“He freed us two years ago. He was a good man.”

“I guess,” he glanced around the market. “Jean is kind of a jerk though.”

“Most boys his age are,” she sighed. “What exactly are you trying to do?”

He flushed, not expecting her to be so abrupt. “I just wanted to talk. Besides Reiner and Sasha, I don’t have anyone else to talk to.”

She paused, her harsh gaze softening a little. “You seem lonely. Most new slaves are, though. What did they make you leave behind?”

His throat tightened. “My mother and father, my baby brother,” he swallowed hard. “My older sister and I were kept together until some man named Nile Dok bought her. I don’t even know if he still has her.”

“Nile Dok?” Annie’s tone had sharpened and she stopped walking, turning to face him. “You’ve seen him?”

“Um, yeah.”

She pursed her lips, eyes narrowing violently. “So, he acquired a new slave for his daughter and himself.”

“What do you mean?” he felt panic rising in him. “Tell me!”

She stared at him in a mixture of sympathy and apatheticness. “Nile Dok likes to buy younger female slaves to protect his daughter. A lot of times, these girls were probably fierce fighters from their tribes or have the aura of a warrior. When he buys them, he does whatever he can to break them into doing what he wants. He promises to pay off their servitude little by little until he’s broken them. And from what I’ve heard, he likes tough and fire-spirited girls.”

He blanched at those words, knowing full well Ymir would fight him through anything. “Would he…” he trailed off, trying very hard not to think of his sister in pain. “Would he...rape them even?”

“Who knows,” she gazed off to the distance. “There’s a storm coming in.”

He had no idea where that had come from, but it wasn’t on his mind at this very moment. The thought of Ymir being violated and possibly tortured made him feel faint. He could feel the blood drain from his face and his stomach churn. Annie didn’t seem to be paying attention. She just took the list and money from him to buy the brushes. The world seemed to be spinning, the people becoming more blurred and out of focus. He felt a hand grab his arm, pulling him down to the ground. “Keep it together,” Annie whispered. “If you pass out on the street, who knows what will happen to you.”

“Okay,” he rasped, keeping his head down. It was starting to feel a little better, but not by much. “I’m thirsty.”

“There’s a fountain nearby. Follow me.”

She led him away from the shop, putting the brushes in her basket. The area where the fountain sat was quiet. Not many people were there and he cupped his hands together, drinking some of it and pouring the rest on his face. The cold wind blew, making the water on his face seem colder. He shivered, feeling a lot better. “Thanks,” he murmured. “So, where is the way back to your father’s home?”

She didn’t say anything, but began to lead the way back to her father’s home. He followed along silently, not having the heart to say anything. Clouds were beginning to cover the sun; dark ominous looking clouds to be exact. Annie hadn’t been lying, there really was a storm rolling in. Even the Aventine seemed darker, and people were beginning to shut their shop doors and windows. However, there was a rather large group of people hanging around an area towards the east. “What’s going on over there?” he asked, hearing the claps and cheers. 

Annie shrugged. “I don’t know and don’t care,” she said, but he held back a smile as she walked over to what was going on. 

Pushing their way through the mass of people, they finally found an area where they could see. To his surprise, it was the girl that Jean’s friend had pointed out from the Triumph feast. She was dancing, the outfit she wore looking a little worn out and she looked a bit dirty. Why wasn’t she with her troop? Did she get left behind, or did they kick her out? He glanced over to Annie, who’s usual passive face looked intense. In fact, she looked almost entranced and completely out of the world until a hand clamped on her shoulder. Reiner grinned, completely ignoring the death glare she gave him. “Chillout, Annie. You’ll end up looking like Medusa if you glare at people like that.”

She rolled her eyes, returning her attention back to the girl. “What’s her name?” she asked, though not specifically towards anyone.

“Mina,” Reiner replied, and Marco had no idea how he knew that. “I met her at the Triumph feast after they were done dancing. “I don’t know her last name, or even if that’s her real name, but she told me that her name was Mina. It’s probably a stage name.”

“She’s good,” Marco commented. “I wonder where the rest of her troop is.”

“Don’t know,” Reiner shrugged. “I figured they would have left the city by now. Something must have happened.”

“Obviously,” Annie muttered. “Let’s go inside. I’m cold.”

Daedalos was more than happy to see his daughter. When he realized where she had gone, he only shook his head. “The fish wouldn’t be biting today,” he said calmly, not looking up from his work. “The storm that’s coming in is going to be big. They had the right idea to swim as far away from it as possible.”

Reiner just glanced out the window, seeing the girl picking up the coins that had been tossed towards her. “How long has she been in the area?”

“Not long,” Daedalos replied. “She arrived shortly after you two left. I know I’ve seen her around the market for the past few days.”

The rain had started pouring down, and the girl just stood there, staring up at the sky. Her gray eyes reflected the sky and she sighed, wrapping her thin shawl around her to keep her warm. He felt sympathy for her. While she was suffering out in the rain and the dangers of night everyday, he had a bed to sleep on and food. “Where will she go?” he found himself asking. “She probably doesn’t know any latin.”

“Probably to a lupanar,” Reiner sighed. “It’s usually where desolate women go to make money.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Disgusting.”

“If it keeps you off the streets and the way you survive,” Annie stood at the door. “Some people will do whatever it takes to live.”

She marched out the door, much to the surprise of everyone. They watched from the window as she began to speak to her, the girl clearly understanding what she was saying. She followed Annie back towards the house, shivering from the cold the second she stepped inside. “Ef̱charistó̱,” she chatted, before shaking her head. “I mean, Gratias tibi.”

Daedalos shook his head. “It’s no problem....Mina, is it?” she nodded her head, giving a small smile towards Reiner. “Where is the rest of your troop? I heard you came with a group.”

She froze, water rising up her eyes before she wiped them away. “They left me,” she replied, her accent heavy. “I did not do what the manager wanted, so he threw me out.”

“What did he want you to do?” Reiner asked, curious.

She bit her lip. “Sleep with him. I told him I was tired of being used as a whore, so he threw me out.”

“So he made you sleep with clients?” Daedalos didn’t look at her, but Marco could see his jaw was firmly set in disgust. 

She nodded. “I had no choice. It put food on the table back home,” her eyes watered again. “I’m never going to see home again.”

“Hey there, don’t cry,” Reiner wrapped an arm around her, hugging her gently. “It’s going to be okay, I promise.”

Mina just sniffed a little before stepping back. “I’m okay; I’ll be fine,” she reassured with a tiny smile. “I haven’t seen my family in over a year; that’s all.”

“Shouldn’t you two be getting back to Jean’s lesson?” Annie spoke, handing the paint brushes to Marco. “I’m sure it’ll be wrapping up by now.”

“Oh shoot, we should probably get going,” he picked up the wood, holding them tightly in his arms. “We’re going to have to brave the weather, Marco, so come on!”

They quickly bid goodbye, hurrying out into the pouring cold rain. Marco flinched as a particularly fat raindrop landed on his face. They both were soaked by the time they reached Jean’s tutor’s home, the servant that greeted them smirking a little. “Is it that bad out?” she asked, handing them a cloth to dry off with. 

“Yes,” Reiner answered, shaking his blonde hair. “Your Gods must be angry with you.”

“They’re not my Gods,” she snapped, taking the towel back. “They’re Roman Gods.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.”

She stormed off, her graying hair swinging behind her as she walked. Reiner snorted. “I really don’t like her,” he grumbled. “She always has a bad attitude.”

“Like Annie?”

The blonde smirked. “Just like Annie, except that Annie is just...well...Annie.”

“What does that mean?”

Reiner shrugged. “You’d understand if you knew her more. She’s not mean per say, just more emotionally detached. If you threaten her father or something, she will flip out. Kind of like Mikasa, in that sense.”

“Is Mikasa here?”

They both turned to see Jean, who was looking around hopefully for the Orient girl. Marco shook his head. “No, Dominus,” he repeated what he’d been instructed earlier to say. “Domina Ackerman is not here.”

“Shame,” Jean sighed. “Anyway, did you get what I asked?”

“Right here, Dominus,” Reiner held up the wood as Marco held up the brushes. “Are you ready to go?”

Jean glanced distastefully at the weather outside. “I guess,” he sighed dramatically. “Out of all the days it had to rain, why today?”

Reiner just shrugged. “Don’t ask me.”

Jean just raised his eyes towards the sky. “Let’s just go home. Erwin announced that we have to go to Octavia’s for dinner.”

Marco glanced at Reiner. “Octavia is…?”

“The Emperor’s sister,” Reiner offered a small smile. “And out of all his family, the nicest and most gracious woman in the empire.”

* * *

 

Reiner was right; Octavia the younger was possibly the nicest person he’d ever met. The second he stepped into the party room, he could see why. She had kind eyes and a kind face. She greeted her guests with a genuine smile; even her sister-in-law. The Emperor, from what he could tell, smiled a lot more around her. Maybe she had that affect around people; he didn’t know for sure. 

Jean, however, looked absolutely bored. No, not bored, restless. Sitting next to Erwin, who was the picture of ease, he looked like he was going to bolt. Standing behind him holding a pitcher of wine, he could see almost everyone in the room. Many noble men and women, dressed in expensive clothing. On Erwin’s left, Levi sat with Eren holding a pitcher of wine behind him. Mikasa was nowhere in sight; Levi saying something about her catching ill this morning and Armin was out of the city with his Grandfather in the country. So, Marco just greeted Eren with his eyes, the other boy smiling back. 

A thirteen year old boy sat next to Octavia, with the woman’s honey colored hair and blue eyes. Marcus Claudius Marcellus, the only son of Octavia. He looked almost exactly like her, except his eyes shone with a more playful light in them. He nudged the young girl, next to him, her cheeks flushing. From what Erwin had mentioned to Jean before, the girl was called Julia the elder and was the only biological child of Octavian. She would be the one  that Marcellus was to marry her when she came of age. Still, since they were both children, they appeared to get along together well.

The only other two children besides them, were the twins Octavia had recently been given custody over. They sat near the other two kids, but had more withdrawn and reserved looks on their features. Standing behind them, Marco had to almost hide the smile from his face. Bertolt looked stoic, but he could see the boredom in his green eyes.

“Would you look at him,” Reiner whispered to him. “That jaw line looks sharp enough to kill someone!”

“I guess,” he smirked. “But his nose looks a little like Annie’s.”

“Who care’s. It looks like Freyja blessed him alright. Either that, or he’s a God in disguise.”

He almost wanted to laugh at Reiner’s new little crush on Bertolt, but one question rose in his mind. “Do you even know his name?”

“No,” Reiner frowned before perking up. “Do you?”

“Hmm, I might, I might not,” he answered vaguely. “It’s almost impossible to know for sure.”

“Come on, you have to tell me!”

He grinned, knowing full well he would never really hide anything like that from someone. “Alright, his name is Bertolt. I think he works in Octavia’s household,” he looked towards the tall male again. “Do you want to go talk to him.”

“Well we can’t right now,” Reiner motioned towards the group of nobles. “I don’t think I could. He’s too perfect to approach!”

Marco almost had the nerve to roll his eyes. “If I catch him leaving to go get more wine or something, I’ll talk to him. Maybe I’ll slip your name in somewhere,” if he was going to have a good life in the city, he might as well make a new project for himself. “You never know, maybe he’s into men.”

“Probably not. Someone so beautiful like that is usually into women.”

“You never know….” he trailed off. 

Jean raised his cup, obviously wanting more wine. He leaned forward, carefully pouring the red liquid into the cup. As a servant, it was his responsibility to serve the other guests as well when they called for more food and drink. By the time he’d poured wine for ten other people, his pitcher was empty. And just in time too. Bertolt was heading towards the exit the other servants were heading towards.

“Bertolt!” he called when the taller man was almost towards the kitchen. “Bertolt!”

The man turned around, almost jumping in surprise. “Marco!” he smiled, the action reaching his eyes. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Well, Erwin is a friend of the Emperor’s and I guess Octavia. Is she friends with everyone?”

“She’s a nice lady,” Bertolt nodded shyly. “She’s good to me and the twins.”

“What exactly do you do?” he asked, though not unkindly. “I mean, you don’t look like you’re their personal servant.”

The older and taller man blushed. “I’m their personal bodyguard. I’ve been looking after them since they were babies. It was my Queen’s orders and I will carry that order out until the day I die or when they free me.”

That was impressive and he let out a laugh. “That’s the most I’ve heard you speak,” the man flushed, but Marco continued on. “But it’s nice you care for them so much. They look so sad here.”

“They witnessed their father die,” Bertolt smile fell. “And didn’t get to be with their mother as she died. It was very devastating for them. Then on the way here, their youngest brother died. And in India, their oldest brother Caesarion was killed. They only have me and each other left.”

He felt more sympathy twinge inside of him. While Erwin was a good master, the very idea of Rome made him angry. How could a place that did such evil crimes be so powerful? It just wasn’t fair! “That’s terrible,” he said, and he fully meant it. “Octavian is a brute!”

“Shh!” Bertolt glanced around nervously, a sweat beginning to form on his brow. “Keep your voice down! You don’t want the wrong person to hear you!”

“Surely you feel the same!”

“What I think doesn’t matter; I’m a servant,” his green eyes flared, brows narrowing. “There are spies everywhere. What you say can, and will, have consequences. While Octavia is a kind Mistress, there are members of her household that will sell anyone out who says something bad about the Emperor.”

“So Reiner was right,” he muttered. “You really do have to watch your back here.”

“Reiner?”

“Oh, the blonde muscular man that was standing next to me,” he noticed Bertolt’s cheeks turn darker. Interesting, very interesting. “You’re blushing!”

“No I’m not!” Bertolt protested, but that only made him blush harder. “I just, um, thought he was attractive.”

“Really?”

“He looks kind,” Bertolt mused softly. “Strong and very kind. Something I’m not.”

He didn't know what to say to that, so he just stood there awkwardly with an empty wine pitcher in his hands. “Why not talk to him?” he offered after a few seconds of silence. “He’s a nice man. He’d helped me out a lot in the days I’ve been here.”

“I don’t know,” Bertolt glanced back towards the party room, where very loud laughter was heard. “I don’t know if I could.”

Gods, it’s like they were made for each other. Yes, they were now his new project. “Just try,” he held a hand on his arm. “You never know what might happen.”

Bertolt smiled. “You’re a good man, Marco. I truly hope you’re right.”

“I know I am. Reiner would never be needlessly cruel to anyone.”

They walked to the kitchens, Bertolt pouring more wine into the pitcher and following him back to the party. They went their separate ways, almost jumping when Reiner ambushed him with questions. “Did you tell him? What’d he say? Was he offended?”

“Slow down,” he said, pouring wine into a cup in front of him. “Yes, I told him. No, he wasn’t offended. And lastly, he was flattered.”

“And?”

“He wants to talk to you too.”

Reiner’s eyes brightened. “Really?”

“Yes really. He’s just shy. Honestly, I think he’d be perfect for you.”

Reiner chuckled, shaking his head. “Marco, if I didn’t know better, I would think you’re Cupid in disguise,” Marco blushed, but Reiner continued. “I’m serious, are you secretly a love God?”

“No,” he continued blushing. “I just want people to be happy.”

If anything, Reiner’s smile softened a little. “That’s nice of you to say, but it’s kind of an unrealistic dream. I totally understand it, but not everyone can be happy.”

Though he didn't’ necessarily agree, he did understand what the Germanic man was saying. “But we can all try to become happy, can't we?”

“Hm, I guess,” Reiner looked over to where Bertolt was, the man catching his gaze before blushing and looking away. “Damn, I think he’s into me too!”

“Told you.”

“I want to continue looking at him, but my wine pitcher is empty.”

“I’ll take it for you,” he handed the full one to him, taking the empty one. “I’ll be right back.”

He headed back towards the kitchen, wearing a small smile on his face. At least two people he knew could be happy. He would never be happy until he found his sister and made sure she was alright. On his way back to the party, he noticed two people towards the other end of the hallway. From what it looked like, it appeared to be Eren and Levi. While normally he would assume they were talking, it was very obvious they weren’t. Levi had Eren pinned to the wall, their lips moving against each other’s so firmly he could hear their teeth clacking. He flushed in embarrassment, realizing this was none of his business.

He hurried away, not realizing he was going the wrong way until he almost bumped into Erwin and, he gulped, the Emperor. He bowed quickly, face now hot and red. “I’m sorry, Dominis meis,” Gods, what if they killed him for this or thought he was stealing? “I lost my way back towards the party! I’m so sorry!”

“It’s alright, Marco,” Erwin nodded, motioning for him to stop bowing. “Accidents happen. Just pay attention more closely next time.”

The Emperor didn’t say anything, but observed him with cold eyes. He tried not to look, but even as he turned around to go back towards the party, he could still feel those cold eyes on him. Gods, the Emperor was creepy.

“Where did Jean go?” he asked Reiner as he came back.

“Out to the patio,” Reiner replied. “You better bring him back before Erwin comes back.”

He set the pitcher down, walking quickly towards the patio nearby. Jean wasn’t especially difficult to find; with his hair kind of sticking out against the other hair colors. He was leaning against a marble railing, out towards the large city. The rain had stopped, but he knew that more was on its way. The last thing he wanted was for Jean to get sick. He paused. Did he just say that? Oh well, it didn’t really mean anything.

“Dominus,” he lightly touched Jean, only for the young man to flinch away. “I’m sorry, I won’t touch you again.”

“It’s fine,” Jean replied. “Now, what do you want?”

“You should return back to the party,” he said this as politely as he could without sounding condescending. “Your Uncle will worry about you.”

“I don’t care,” Jean grumbled. “I don’t care what he says or feels. Just because he’s my Uncle doesn’t mean I have to do what he says.”

Marco felt himself growing irritated. For days, he’d been having to deal with Jean’s bad attitude and quite frankly, he was done with his whining. “You should care,” he found himself speaking out of turn, but he couldn’t stop himself from talking. “He’s your Uncle; he loves you! You may not always agree with what he does, but he does love you and wants what’s best for you. By looking at a lot of people here, most of them probably don’t give any thought towards their children except for political reasons, but I firmly believe Erwin wants you to be happy and well taken care of  more than anything. So quit being a spoilt brat, and come back inside.”

Jean was speechless, jaw hanging open. For a second, Marco was afraid that he would strike him, but he didn’t. He just shut his jaw, tilting his head a little to observe him. “You’re a strange one, Marco,” he said. “Very strange.”

He just flushed. “Yes, um, well, you should still go inside.”

Jean just stared at him before slowly walking back towards the entrance of the house. “One question, though.”

“What?”

“Why exactly did you want me to go back inside?”

Marco didn’t even have to answer Jean’s question. Rain poured down on them, causing Jean to sputter and quickly hurry inside the home with Marco snickering after him.

**  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup that was chapter four. I have a few things I want to clarify before I leave you.
> 
> 1\. The Cailleach is a Gaelic Creator deity, a Hag deity, and a weather deity. 
> 
> 2\. The Aventine was, and still is, a real place in Rome. In the HBO TV series Rome, it is the home of Lucius Vorenus and Titus Pullo. It's a really good TV show, and I recommend it.
> 
> 3\. Freyja is the Germnaic Goddess of love, beauty, sexuality, fertility, gold, sorcery, war, and death
> 
> 4\. Ef̱charistó̱ is Greek for thank you. Please correct me if I am wrong :)
> 
> Well, that's all I want to point out. Regions and different Gods are hard to find, so we're going to stick to these ones. If I find something else, I'll be sure to let you guys know.

**Author's Note:**

> There are going to be historical inaccuracies. Obviously the characters in the AOT fandom aren't really proper for Ancient times, but it seems like a fun idea to use and this is FANFICTION after all. So I'll be doing as much research as I can over the next few days. I decided to make Marco and Ymir siblings because it just seemed like the right thing to do. Why not add a little subplot of him trying to find his sister in the large city of Rome? Well, that's all for now! See you guys later!


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